March 1945

The dreams were the worst.

Edith would jolt awake; her eyelids whipping open as her pulse galloped away. It would be an hour or so till she drifted back into an uneasy doze. Sometimes she would merely stay awake, waiting for the yellowed curtains to brighten with dawn. It was a mercy that she had been quartered with Samantha. The girl's even breathing in the trundle bed by the door kept Edith from going mad on those nights.

The same image always brought her back to consciousness. The snow soaking up blood like a piece of bread in soup; a gory sponge. The thick, warm liquid bit burning trails along the white expanse of her mind till she could almost taste it.

Then there were the nights she could still feel his arms around her.

Turning to catch a glimpse of his face, the grey image blurred. Though she'd never admit it, she couldn't tell if it was Winters or Nixon holding her. Strangely enough, it was as if they both were at the same time. Whoever it was that kept her in their embrace, those were the nights she slept through the terror like a ship passing unscathed through a storm.

Edith stared numbly at the bulleted supply list on the truck bed. Wordlessly, Samantha took one of her bare hands and wrapped her fingers around a fresh cup of coffee.

"So what's the word?"

"Sturzelberg."

"Gesundheit."

Edith shook her head, arching an eyebrow at Samantha who grinned coyly. She honestly didn't know if she could have made it the past two months without the girl. Their friendship had developed so gradually, Edith hadn't even realized how dependent she had become upon her until recently. They were having to oversee another shipment into German territory and one of them was going to have to go with the convoy. The other would stay behind.

"You sure you are up for this?" Samantha asked, reading over her shoulder.

Edith swallowed hard, "Of course."

"You know, I have no problem going-"

"Samantha, I'll be fine." Edith repeated evenly, meeting her aid's concerned gaze.

Edith hadn't needed to expose any details of her experience in the Bastogne area to Samantha. The girl innately knew that something devastating had happened to her normally stoic boss. The quivering, sleepless mess of a woman that cried as quietly as she could into her pillow was enough for Samantha to guess the worst.

It was only recently, as the weather grew warmer and spring seemed as close as victory, that Edith was feeling whole again. Until the day earlier, when the order to venture deep into enemy territory arrived.

Her dreams that night had been particularly brutal.

"You know, there is no enemy activity on the route you are taking-"

"Samantha, please. I'll be fine." Edith sipped her coffee, burning her tongue.

"Miss Sink?" A familiar voice chirped behind them.

Edith and Samantha turned. A young man, thin but well-built with divorced front teeth, grinned at them. Edith smiled widely in return.

"Private Grable." She held out her hand.

"It's actually Sergeant now, Miss Sink." He grasped her fingers firmly, "It's good to see you. How have you been?"

"Good." Edith's smile felt painted on, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm accompanying the supply convoy to Sturzelberg." His gaze drifted towards Samantha and lingered briefly.

"Then we will be travel companions for the time."

"I'm looking forward to it, Miss Sink." He glanced back at Samantha.

"This is my Aide, Samantha Quincey." Edith motioned to the girl, sensing he was itching for an introduction.

The young man nodded eagerly, "Sergeant Edward Grable, Miss Quincey. But my friends call me Eddie."

"I'm sure they do." Samantha smirked, "I'll be fetching those folders. Do you need anything else, Miss Sink?"

Edith shook her head. As Samantha walked away, Grable followed her with his grey eyed gaze.

"I hate to break it to you, Sergeant," Edith commented, "But she has a sweetheart."

Grable glanced back and gave a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, "Of course she does."

"I will see you at 10:00 hours?"

"Yes mam." He replied firmly, "I'm glad to be working with you again, Miss Sink."

"As am I. And Sergeant, please call me Edith."

"Only if you'll call me Eddie." He winked pleasantly, "See you in a couple hours, Edith."

After securing the last few items to be sent into Germany, Edith made her way through the quiet village. They weren't far from the border, though remote from any hint of action. Edith knew that had been on her father's part. She hadn't argued.

Trudging up the stairs to her temporary office space, she found Samantha facing the open window. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, a piece of stationary fluttering lightly in her hand.

"There is a telegram for you on the desk."

Edith walked over and picked up the neatly typed square. Reading silently, she sighed.

"I am being called over to Regiment in Germany. There have been some discrepancies with shipments lately. Apparently, the boys on the line are barely receiving even D-Rations because the supplies are so badly stripped by the time they get to them." Edith snorted, shaking her head, "They need me over there by this afternoon. I hate to ask you this, but can you go to Sturzelberg in my stead?"

"I already said I was willing."

Samantha's voice was soggy. Edith paused, setting down the telegram. On the desk corner, there was a torn envelope postmarked from England. She took a tentative step forward.

"Samantha?"

The young woman sniffed, cupping the arc of her neck with her palm as she held up the letter. She glanced back at Edith. Her cheeks were damp and fair skin blotchy. She blinked and tried to smile.

"I had a feeling it was coming." She folded the letter.

"Oh no," Edith's heart sunk, "Is Smokey… Walter, is he-"

"He's alive. Don't worry. Still encased like a mummy in that cast with holes bored into his head and such." She shrugged, "He has regained some movement but it looks like a long road till he is healed up. And he doesn't want me to travel it with him anymore."

Edith bit her lip. Since hearing the news of the Corporal's serious injury at Bastogne, Samantha had been optimistic. Their letters were few and far between but it had seemed like he was going to make it and they would be eventually reunited.

"What reason did he give?"

"He doesn't feel its right to expect me to take care of him if he remains paralyzed."

"He has pride."

Samantha snorted, uncharacteristically wiping her nose with her sleeve, "He's got something alright."

"Are you sure you can make this trip? I can contact my father and tell him I'm unable to make it."

"No, of course not." She exhaled heavily, shaking out her hands, "Anyway, wasn't it you who said personal feelings and professional atmosphere don't mix? You were so right. I should never have gone down this road. You were smart to stay unattached, Edith."

Edith's eyes shot to her feet as a pang of guilt hit her in the gut. Dick's muted shock as her palm had connected with his face flashed into her mind. She still couldn't explain why she had reacted so fiercely. It had been stupid and impulsive. And had most likely cost her so much more than she could fathom. Edith could only hope she never saw him again.

"My ride for Regiment leaves in an hour." Edith murmured, "You sure you are up for Sturzelberg?"

"Positive."

Lewis Nixon ran his worn fingertips over the stitching of his hat. With a sigh, he sat back from resting his elbows on his knees. Digging into his pants pocket, he rolled his eyes as he felt the empty packet of cigarettes. He had forgotten he was out.

It had been a half hour since he had arrived at Regiment for a briefing with Colonel Sink. Whatever was going on in the large drawing room used for meetings was taking longer than expected. Hurry up and wait as usual.

Sitting in the echoing hallway of the grand old building that the Army had procured for their use, he shifted his weight on the creaking, dark wooden bench. Sink's secretary in the open room across from him was busy typing. She'd pause occasionally, sigh, check the tape in her typewriter and then start pecking away at the keys once more. It was annoyingly predictable.

Absently, Lewis tried to imagine what she'd look like without glasses and her hair loose. He concluded it wouldn't be much of an improvement.

He heard the door to the briefing room open. A flood of uniforms strutting in all their ranked glory filled the hallway. Resting his elbows on his knees again, Nixon glanced down at his watch. He was in desperate need of a drink.

As his gaze lazily drifted upwards, he glimpsed a womanly pair of ankles at the secretary's desk. His eyes lifted and he couldn't help the smile tugging at his full lips. He'd have known those long legs anywhere. Edith Sink could have given Rita Hayworth a run for her money with those gams of hers. She turned, a folder tucked under her arm and reading a sheet of paper as she walked into the hallway. Lewis straightened in his seat. He was about to say something when she looked up directly into his eyes.

Her expression was blank as she studied him. It was as though she was trying to place him. As though she didn't remember him holding her as they drove back from the line. He had every moment of that evening firmly stamped in his mind. Nixon couldn't recall the last time he had been truly needed like that by a woman. It had jarred him and left him hungry to see her again. However, she had been sent away as quickly as her father could by the next day. Seeing her again almost made him forget the heaviness of the flask in his pocket. Almost.

"Captain Nixon." She sputtered.

Lewis stood, "Good to see you, Edith. How have you been?"

"Well." She nodded curtly, "And you?"

He was distracted for a moment as she bit her lower lip. He had never noticed before what a beautiful mouth the woman possessed. Though she wore no lipstick, she had no need for it. Nixon had a searing thought of what it would be like to kiss that bee stung mouth of hers. He coughed and fought for focus.

"Good, still in one piece."

"I see and still lacking a razor." She quirked an eyebrow.

He chuckled, "I told you already. I do the best I can in that department."

Edith managed a half smile as her hazel eyes flitted towards the staircase behind him. Her face was thinner then when he had last seen her. There were grey shadows of exhaustion in the hollows of her cheeks. It seemed that the war was finally taking its toll on the Ice Queen of the 101st. Lew absently stepped towards her. She drew back.

"You here to see the Colonel?"

"Yes." He shrugged, "Something about a combat jump."

Edith wrapped an arm around her middle, her gaze returning to the stairs.

"Good luck then. It was nice to see you, Captain Nixon."

Nix chuckled lightly as he ambled forward till he stood abreast of her. He was close enough to catch the clean scent of soap in her hair. It only spurred his imagination.

"Come on, Edith. Call me Lew now, would yah?"

She cocked a dark eyebrow, her expression cooling, "Honestly, Captain Nixon works just fine for me."

Edith strode to the stairwell. Nixon watched her every step.

Author's Note: So... when I said things were going to get interesting... well...